


Let It Rain (Sangria) [DISCONTINUED]

by mourn3d



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood and Gore, Chaos, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Drinking, Drug Withdrawal, Drugs, F/M, Full backstories, Gunshot Wounds, Homophobia, M/M, Michael drinks, Murder, Psychological Trauma, Shooting Guns, Smoking, Trevor becomes an addict, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Young Love, young to present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27742744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mourn3d/pseuds/mourn3d
Summary: Trevor Philips lived a troubling life on the border. Growing up in a trailer park in Canada with his mother and brother, Ryan. After an accident resulting in Ryan's death, Mrs.Philips finds out about the death and punishes Trevor the way she always has by beating him. At this point, the seventeen year old has had enough, so he leaves in the morning and takes a truck that was parked beside the trailer out of town to never return.Michael Townley has to grow up with an abusive father and a mother who had to go through the same things that he did for *messing up*. Michael wants to protect his mother, but knows he would never be able to stand up against Mr. Townley until one day he vanishes out of their lives. His mother and him have to learn how to enjoy life and feel safe again.Michael and Trevor meet one day in a gas station and instantly spark a friendship that lasts a lifetime, though no relationship for either of the boys has ever gone unproblematic and they quickly found out that friendship isn't as easy as everyone says it is.
Relationships: Amanda De Santa/Michael De Santa, Michael De Santa/Dave Norton, Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips, Trevor Philips/Brad Snider, Trevor Philips/Mr. Raspberry Jam
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	1. mr. philips

**Author's Note:**

> Another fanfiction! This time I'm actually planning on making this a several parted fic because the story was really interesting for me to start! Hope you guys enjoy it!

_Flick_

A young man stood silently outside of a _Quik-Stop_ gas station. Nodding silently to a woman who passed him, glancing at her behind as she went into the gas station with a kid at her side. He scoffed, shaking his head and trying his lighter again. Covering it from the small breeze that could easily put out the tiny flame the lighter would make if the thing would actually work. He flicked the lighter a few more times before muttering a curse under his breath and tossing it in the trash and tucking the cigarette he had prepared back into it’s back and then putting it in his back pocket. 

He let out a disgusted sigh and turned, now grumpy that he couldn’t smoke. He watched the woman and her child through the cracked gas station window and rolled his eyes when she handed the probably ten year old boy a bottle of scotch. ‘ _Fuckin’ junkie.’_ he muttered to himself, turning his attention away to the teenager that eyed him. The kid was on the opposite side of the front of the building as him.The younger teenager gave him this weird kind of look, and he cackled a tiny bit shaking his head. 

“Sorry man. My lights out, I can’t help ya’ either. No ID.” he shrugged. He wasn’t old enough to buy anything. He knew he looked older than what he actually looked like. For a 17 year old he looked damn near into his late twenties. The only thing that gave his age any credit was how scraggly he was and skinny, but he had some bulk on his arms from regularly having to work out whether that be at school when he would sometimes attend or just at home with the set of dumbbells he had shoplifted a few years ago. 

He had a mangy mullet, although with the rest of his appearance it was pretty nice. He took care of his hair because it was something that he actually took pride in. He had the shadow of a mustache showing, mostly because he didn’t feel like shaving lately and really didn’t have the time to since his mother would bitch that he would be taking too much time for himself when he focused to not slit open his face. Though by his appearance he had done that before. He had a scar across his lips, then another few on his cheeks and one across his eye brow. 

His brother had shattered a glass over his head once, giving him the scar on his eyebrow. The one on his lip was whenever he got into a fight with one of the drug dealers his mom invited over to screw. The guy was being a little too friendly, a little too quick, and his mother had no idea he had gotten home so early. He had screamed at the guy to knock it off, before he hurried over and punched him square in the jaw. What he didn’t know was that the man was wearing a heavy ring, and punched him back harder, splitting open his lip and leaving him weakly gasping for air on the ground. His mother and the man left. Leaving him crying and bleeding on the floor. 

His mother was probably wondering where he and his sibling were at this moment. Why they hadn’t returned home together from shoplifting some bread for them to eat that night. She was probably worried _sick_ about her dear boy. Her dear older son that she loved probably more than life itself. 

The man scoffed gently, shuffling his feet for a moment before he ducked back to go down the side of the gas station and hopping over the bent up guard rail at the end of the side section of the parking lot next to the bathrooms. He carefully went down the small hill and hit pavement, taking the cracked concrete down at its awkward slope to the bottom of a bridge. A steady stream from the river flowed below the bridge and he decided to follow it. 

He wasn’t planning on returning home today, after all. 

He quietly walked down, gazing down at the ground as he went and avoided the thoughts that threatened to swarm in about what happened between him, his brother and a very unlucky driver around an hour and a half ago. He just wanted to walk and clear his head, so he headed for the woods that were just down the river, following the stream that began to get more and more narrow. 

He realized it would start to get colder now. Canada usually was cold, especially in this town, but it got almost deathly when the sun went down. He needed to find shelter and duck down until morning, and with not having a place to go home to without getting beat senseless, and no neighbors that would take him in. He was on his own today unless he got cash to afford a hotel, and even a hotel would be a good walk from here and he had no idea where to get any cash from quick and easy besides mugging an old lady and at this point he didn’t have any feeling to want to do that. 

He walked down to the small woodland and looked around before going a bit deeper and taking his place next to a small bush, he glanced up at the trees and where the pink and orange sky could be seen through the brown leaves that would surely cover him when he woke. The man took a glance to see what he could come up with to keep him safe tonight and came up with a few twigs, dead leaves, and thanked god that he had a pocket knife handy. 

He took one of the small branches he collected and broke it in half, then took a piece of bark that he had and cut a small divot into it. He then carefully took some of the leaves and placed it beside the divot in the bar before taking the part of the branch and rubbing it against the bark. It was something that his brother taught him to do when they were younger and got along easier. 

“Thanks Ryan.” he muttered under his breath, continuing to rub before sitting up on his knees so that he could use a little more force into his pushing to start the fire. 

After a while a spark happened. He grinned and leaned down, pushing his face close and blowing on the time flame, before quickly pushing it under the bush and waiting for it to light. He soon laid back, staring at the flames that began to engulf the small bush. A tiny part inside of him warmed up, not just from the flames but from the natural thing inside of him that was happy he was _killing_ something else on the face of the Earth, and for some reason it gave him a sick kind of happiness. His amber eyes lit up as the fire rose and took over the entire bush, making soft crackling noises that sent him over that happy edge more and more. 

He eventually fell asleep to the sounds of the fire crackling and the somehow relaxing thoughts as he watched. He slumped against a tree and fell asleep like that through the night, the fire kept him warm and stayed away, somehow not spreading to kill him in his sleep, though he was thankful for one reason only, being able to have the thrill of life again, although most of it was full of pain and people that could give zero shits about him. 

He picked himself up. _Time to go home_. Of course it was. He went out and fucked up but always ran home to mommy to fix himself. Ryan wasn’t here to make fun of him, to backhand and snicker whenever he walked through the door and was screamed at by his mother. He headed through the woodland, almost expertly being able to track where he was and figure out what direction he needed to go in to get home. He soon was walking on the side of the road, passing by roadkill that he hardly noticed. The whole town smelled like rotten animals. It was normal. A trailer trash town. 

He walked down the dirt road, looking at the chipped fences that all were uneven or almost falling over, he looked at the trailers and frowned at the sight of the young children sitting out on the yellow lawn. He nodded slightly at them when they looked up at him and kept walking. He saw that there was a faded red pickup truck directly in the trailer he was heading for, and a rage filled him. Of fucking corse she was. 

“Ma?” Trevor called from outside, looking into the driver side window of the pickup and scowling as he saw a letterman jacket. Oh the hell no she wasn’t. “Ma!” He called and headed up the rickety small stairs of the porch, skipping the one second to top because it was loose. He grabbed the doorknob and gave it a hard tub and growled when it was locked. He walked over to the flower pot and picked it up to find the spare. When he saw that it wasn’t there he slammed the pot down and dug through the dirt, plucking out the small silver key and moving back to the door, forcing the key into the hole and unlocking it. Shoving it open and tossing the key towards the busted up couch. 

“Trevor, what the fuck are you doing?!” A woman screeched at the man. She had a shirt hanging off her shoulders, the bedroom door was cracked but mainly closed. Trevor glared at her and walked in, shrugging off his thin jacket. 

“He needs to fucking leave.” Trevor snapped at his mother, but was shut down quickly when he was backhanded right in the face. “Ma-” 

“Where is your brother?” She asked, eyes wide and desperate. Her pupils were blown wide. High off her shit. Trevor had noticed this but stood, trying not to break down against his mother like he normally would. Ryan wasn’t here to finish the job of beating him. Ryan wasn’t here. He wasn’t _here_ . That sick happiness hitting him again. He was brought out of his thoughts with a hard slap across the face that made him stumble back. “ _Answer me boy!_ ” She bellowed to him.

“ _Dead_!” Trevor yelled back at her. “He’s fucking dead!” The trailer went silent. His mother stared at him with a surprised and threatening look. She stepped towards him, and he took four steps backwards, preparing himself to get beat. 

His mother beat him. Almost on a regular basis. Didn’t do something he didn’t know he had to do? Beat. Didn’t take care of Ryan? Beat. Didn’t take care of the water bill? Beat. It was normal for him. But he was getting sick of it and began to rebel a lot more than he used to. 

“How...is he _dead?_ ” She asked, voice slightly shaking. This new kind of broken voice scared Trevor down to his core just about. He blinked a few times. He kept trying to back away from her but was backed into a wall. His eyes went wide. Here it was. “How the _hell_ could you be so _careless?!_ Your brother's death is _your_ fault! We’re all dead now! You realize that boy?!” She slammed a punch into him and he let out a gasp, he wouldn’t lay his hands on her, no matter how hard she beat him. 

And he was beat pretty bad. 

* * *

Trevor trudged down the stairs, bruises covered his face. He looked at the pickup, then back to the door of the trailer. He headed down and tried the door of the truck and let out a small scoff when it opened easily, he hopped into the driver seat, assuming that anyone his mother would bring home would be stupid enough to...yep. Leave the keys in the ignition. He started the truck and turned his head to back out. He heard shouting and turned his head back around and spotted a red haired man standing on the porch. He flipped him off, before driving off, dust flying and making a huge cloud behind him as he left the trailer for good. 

He got as far away from that town as he could. In a span of 24 hours he made it to the neighbor town, parking in a parking lot and laying over in the seat, frowning. He didn’t know what he was going to be doing now. There was no safe way to get away. He considered America as an option, but with only being 17 there was going to be some difficulty getting through the border right now. 

He didn’t have an ID, he was below the age of 18 and would be this way for a good seven months. He was utterly fucked. Homeless with nothing but a red pickup truck that had a half tank full of gas. He was in a town that nobody knew him in. He had nobody to care for him anymore, his mother hated him because of Ryan’s death...he had nothing and nobody. 

It was the same as life had always been, just taken to the most extreme measures that he never really expected himself to go into. He was so lost now and had nowhere to turn. Trevor took the keys out of the ignition and pulled open the glove box, surprised at the sight of a wallet. “You stupid asshole.” he chortled to himself, picking up the wallet and unfolding it, taking a look inside and sighing thankfully. There was around $87 dollars plus some change in the wallet. Enough to get food if he really needed it and gas. He was pretty well set in this position, he just had nowhere to go. He didn’t want to waste the small amount of cash that he had on sleeping in a hotel room for one night, knowing it would surely cost a majority of the money, but he also didn’t want to keep the truck on for the heater and have to pay for gas sooner than he really needed to. 

He frowned and reached into the glove box again, shuffling around the magazines and napkins that were in the compartment and pulling out a lighter. He rose a brow and slowly lifted the lighter, taking out a cigarette and reaching below the steering wheel to crank open the window just a tiny bit. He placed the cigarette between his lips and attempted to light it again. 

_Flick_

_Flick_

Still nothing. He gave the lighter a glare, throwing it out the window and shoving the cigarette back into his pocket, closing his eyes as he held himself and listened to the air blow outside. How was he going to fix himself now?


	2. Oh, That Townley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael Townley comes into the picture of the story. He thinks about his abusive relationship with his father when he takes a holiday down to the border of Canada and America.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me if I make this a little too modern, obviously I wasn't alive in the 80s so I might slip up and make some parts too modern. Also, I've never been to Canada but I'm just assuming cold?? This chapter wasn't due for another week but I got too excited for being able to write the loverboys being able to meet so I kind of rushed this chapter in.

Blood rushed to his ears. Breathing thickly as he heard the screaming of a woman in the background as he lay shocked on the ground, feeling the uncomfortable sliver of blood go down his face as he laid and stared at the retreating feet. He barely reacted when he was pulled up against his mother’s chest, just leaning slightly into her arms and not speaking. He suddenly realized he had been crying and snapped back into reality. Hearing his mothers broken sobs as she held her son against her chest. He heard nothing but a white noise in the background, still. Barely registering the words she was saying to him. Had he left? Was he safe? He was scared to talk and be beaten down again. 

He later woke back in bed, not realizing that he had fallen asleep. He also wondered how he could possibly be back in bed since he was definitely a lot heavier than what his mom could handle. That scared him down to the core. Was his father back? He sat up slowly in bed, rubbing his head and hissing as he rubbed the skin in the wrong way and his bruises flared in pain. He heard heavy boots on the wooden floor of the kitchen and shrunk back into the corner of his bed. His eyes were wide until he heard the front door slam, and a soft knock on his bedroom door told him that it was his mother this time. He got up and carefully walked to his bedroom door, opening it and looking at his mother with gentle eyes. 

Through all of the misery he still had his mom, he understood though, how they could both be hurting through these times, but he understood completely. He really did. He had his mom. 

Life went on, though. His mother got married to another man since it was apparent that Mr.Townley was actually gone now. Michael kept the curse of a name solely to prove that he could be a better man than his father. He wanted to make his mother proud. It was really the only thing he had left to do in life. 

Sometimes though he wasn’t the best son he could be.  _ Sometimes _ he would slip up and get a little too wild with his friends and go behind his mother’s back like any other teen his age. He liked to party, drink a few beers here and there and maybe smoke a little pot, but it was nothing like going out and murdering other people and such. It was just teenager stuff. He was a popular kid that got good grades and what was wrong with having a little bit of fun? 

He went out to a party one night, he had gotten a little carried away with a brunette that night. He didn’t exactly catch her name, all he knew was that she had nice lips and even better hips. He took her upstairs and the pair shotgunned some pot between each other. He lost his virginity that night to a nameless girl. 

But he was a good kid. Later on he went back to school and laughed with his buddies and got his grades up. He graduated with a letterman jacket on his shoulders and a pin with colorful beads on the chest region of the jacket. 

Turns out that  _ the nameless girl _ turned into the assistant principal of the high school. She wasn’t much older than him, maybe around 5 to 7 years older but she still had that sweet spot for Michael though they never tried anything again after he found out. He explained that it was just morally wrong to be seeing someone who was still his authoritative figure in school, she understood, but still had once kissed his cheek in good luck and handed him the pin as a good luck charm. He kept the pin on him ever since. 

Either way, he graduated now. He had freedom that he never had and was turning 18 in a few months so he was soon to be a fully grown adult. As scary as that was he felt ready to start a whole new chapter of his life. He explained to his mother that perhaps he should take a trip, even offered for her to come but the invitation was politely declined because she wanted to stay home with her husband and spend the holidays with him. Michael understood and decided to book a hotel near the edge of the border between Canada and America, he always liked the cold, anyways. 

So he traveled to Canada, taking a few suitcases and a big wad of cash for the road and his trip expenses. He didn’t know what he was looking for. Maybe a way to spend the rest of his life, though he knew he would always live in America. He wanted to see the world perhaps. 

He stopped at a few hotels on the way, but after a few days he had made it across the border and settled in a motel called Misty Waters Motel. He settled for a room upstairs and laid out all of his things in the drawers before pulling back the curtains on his motel room. He looked outside at the small flurry of snowflakes. It was probably not the best driving weather and time to go for a trip to Canada but when he was back home he just wanted to get  _ away. _ So he was enjoying himself here in this cold place. He turned on the heater, before realizing he didn’t really have anything to snack on while he stayed in and waited for the flurries to die down. He sighed and grabbed his coat, deciding he could take a trip down to the store to get some things. He grabbed gloves and his keys then headed down to his car that was nicely parked right beside the steps so he wouldn’t have to drive too far. 

He made his way to his car, and as soon as he got in looked at the radio for the temperature.  _ 12 degrees.  _

“Sheesus.” Michael mumbled and turned up the dial for the heater, flicking through the radio channels before stopping suddenly at the familiar tune he heard. 

_ Like a river to the sea _

_ I will always be with you _

_ And if you sail away _

_ I will follow you _

His mother had a collection of records back at home in America. One of the records made by Phil Collins. It was all he ever really listened to. It gave him an odd comfort that he never really had whenever his father was around. He melted into the voice of Collins. It gave him ease, made him think of how he was able to relax after the smoke had cleared and his father went missing. 

_ I know there'll never be a time you'll ever feel the same _

_ And I know it's only words _

_ But if you change your mind you know that I'll be here _

_ And maybe we both can learn _

He never knew what happened to his father. There were stories all over the town about what could have happened. He didn’t want to ask his mother, didn’t want to make it sound like he  _ cared _ , because he didn’t. His deadbeat dad could be dead and he wouldn’t drop a single tear for the worthless soul. Some people said he had overdosed, others told him he was hit by a train on his way out of town after a particular fight in a bar. He didn’t care, really. He knew his father was a complete asshole to everyone he knew (besides some of the town girls that hadn’t been around long enough to know about his abusive behavior) and he deserved to be put in the ground for what he had done. He was speaking for not only himself, but for his mother that had to go through worse than Michael did. 

_ Give me just one more night, give me just one more night _

_ Oh one more night, 'cause I can't wait forever _

He knew he needed to call her today. To check in and explain exactly where he was if she ever needed to get a hold of him. He knew his mom would never want to disturb him on a vacation so he needed to remind her that he was in Canada and he was always open for calls from home. He pulled out his cell and dialed her number, leaning back and sliding a hand over his face as if to wake himself up a bit more to be able to speak with his mother. 

“Michael? - Hello!” A gentle female voice came over the line, this made Michael’s heart warm at the sound of her voice. He chuckled and paused for a moment to just relax at the sound. Man, he missed her. 

“Hey. How are you?” he asked softly, hearing her giggle over the line. A bit out of the ordinary for his mother, but he ignored it. He didn’t want to make it sound like he was being weird, because he was just trying to call his mother and enjoy himself. 

“I’m doing great. I just made it to my motel. You know when I heard it was gonna be cold in Canada-” 

“You’re in Canada?” the woman sounded awfully confused, and Michael quickly paused. His mother knew he was going to Canada a week before he even headed out. He took a small breath before slowly answering the woman. 

“Yeah..I’m in a city on the border….w-who is this again?” he asked slowly. Confusion rippled through him, he could have swore he dialed his mothers number. 

“It’s Sherry, Michael! I can’t believe you actually called me. It’s been almost a year since you’ve actually used your cell to talk to me-” 

He hit the end call button and sat his phone down, letting out a deep sigh and grabbing the pack of cigarettes he had tucked into his inside pocket. He took a small packet of matches from the compartment on the bottom of his door and lit the cigarette, tossing the match out of the window and into a small puddle of melted snow on the ground that instantly quenched the flame. He kept the window cracked as he smoked and shook his head. Love must have been on his mind too much. It sickened him. He called  _ Sherry _ over his own mother. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

_ “Are you sick, boy?!” A thundering voice hollered through the house. Michael, this time a little smaller and skinnier, ducked on his knees against the wall. A dark haired man with Michael’s similar eyes kicked him hard and forced him to fall against the hard floor, the boy crying as he was continuously kicked and stepped on by the male. “I told you to do one thing! One simple thing and you always fuck it up!” The man screamed at him.  _

_ “I-I’m sorry- I’m sorry dad- I didn’t-”  _

_ “Don’t call me  _ **_dad_ ** _ you stupid shit! I’m not your father!” He shouted and stormed off, breaking the hinge of the back door with enough force to rip it from the wall and was left sideways but was held on by the bottom hinge.  _

Michael had thought of that the night he smoked pot in his buddies bed with that girl. When she lifted her skirt and sunk herself onto him without much of a tease. He kissed her slovenly, forcing himself up against her hips more as she let out an excited shrill against his lips. He thankfully had enough of a mind to put on protection before they started, so when he reached his high he was the most satisfied he had ever been. He dragged his hands down her hips and onto her thighs, lifting her and laying her down, before removing the condom and tossing it in the overfilled trash can beside the door. 

In a way, Sherry was like that door. A broken thing in his life that was still fixable if they really tried. Or they could get a new door and new hinges and that’s exactly what Michael wanted to do. He wanted to forget that girl but just like everything else in his life it just seemed to linger in the back of his mind, exactly like that door. He wanted to replace it with a new door, but his father saw no reason to when he finally came back that night and put a few screws in the hinges and rehung it. He hated himself for acting like his father just then. Calling  _ Sherry _ instead of his own mother? How could he mistake that? With the thoughts he angrily tossed out the cigarette and pushed the dial on the radio to turn it off as it went to another Phil Collins song. He must have been hosting the station for the day because sometimes radio stations would do that. He got a glimpse of the title and the lyrics instantly bounced into his head. 

_ Easy lover _

_ She'll get a hold on you believe it _

_ Like no other _

_ Before you know it you'll be on your knees _

With a tiny shout in anger he got out of the car, hitting the lock button and walking down the pavement to the road. Fuck that car. He took a small walk down the road to the gas station, a small angry scowl on his face as he walked across the empty road and headed into the station, looking over the employees with a slow nod before heading to the back of the station to scope out the snacks. Grabbing a small basket on the way. He filled the basket with different things like a bag of bugles and some pringles, along with pretzels and some gummy bears and lollipops because...he really wanted to be able to binge eat and stare out the window at the snow. Where he came from there wasn’t a lot of snow to look at and by the morning it had all melted.

He frowned when his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and lifted it to his face after unfolding the top part and pushing the green call button. “ _ Hello?! _ ” 

“Michael? This is mom...I just wanted to check in.” His mother sounded a little surprised by the sudden snap coming from him. He instantly regretted answering the phone like that. It reminded him of his father. “If this is a bad time -” 

“No...no not at all! I’m just at the gas station. What’s up?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyy for anyone who reads my other fics there is a cameooooo. this isn't apart of any other universes my fics are in but I thought it would be cool to add a bit more drama for Michaels end because he isn't as interesting as Trevor in my opinion. Also while doing some research on what Phil Collins song for Michael to be listening to I found out that he had a song in GTA: Vice City. 
> 
> Songs (both by Phil Collins): (first) One More Night [1985] (second) Easy Lover [1984]

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I'm always around to hear what you guys have to say and I'm always looking at the comments for suggestions or feedback. Thank you so much for reading this!


End file.
